


The Birthday Promise

by marysiak



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Anal Sex, Drunk Sex, First Time, M/M, Oral Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-16
Updated: 2016-07-16
Packaged: 2018-07-24 10:58:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,235
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7505683
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/marysiak/pseuds/marysiak
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Weasleys take Harry out drinking for his 18th birthday and promise he'll finally lose his virginity.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Birthday Promise

Harry lost his virginity on his 18th birthday.

It was also the day he learned that he had the fortunate or unfortunate gift of being one of those people who never forgot a single thing that happened no matter how plastered he was.

He had spent the summer at the Burrow. Partly against his will, a large part of him had very much wanted to run away from everyone and everything and lick his own wounds in peace. But Molly had reacted to Fred’s death by deciding to mother Harry to within an inch of his life and Ron had begged him to stay and let her.

“I don’t know how she’ll cope if you leave,” he had said roughly. “She needs you to be here.”

So Harry had stayed.

He had, perhaps foolishly, assumed that he and Ginny might fall back into the way things had been in sixth year. But everyone was changed by Fred’s loss. Although he was sure it wouldn’t always be that way, Ginny reminded him unsettlingly of Cho Chang at the moment. She was reacting in what was probably a fairly healthy way, letting her sorrow out whenever it overwhelmed her. But her constant tears and desire to talk about it brought back unpleasantly wet memories and an uncomfortable guilt.

Ron had reacted by growing up, fast. Too fast. With Ginny constantly weeping, George a shuffling wreck of a man, Percy still awkward around the family, and Arthur somehow frail, Ron had graduated to the man of the house. It was, in Harry’s opinion anyway, really bizarre. Ron didn’t cry. Ron was stoic and practical and calm. Ron often got up in the night and sat staring out of the window for hours and hours.

Harry knew this because he also did not sleep well.

Charlie had gone back to Romania after the funeral, but he came home every weekend. Of all of them, Harry found Charlie easiest to deal with. He was sad, like they all were, but he had been changed the least by the war. There was a solidity to Charlie, as if he couldn’t ever be anything but who he was, no matter what happened.

But it was Bill who came up with the plan. They needed a boys night out, and Harry apparently needed to make up for time lost.

“You, Harry, need to blow off some proper steam. I bet you haven’t even dipped your wick yet have you?”

Harry looked confused as the others laughed.

“It is long past time we got you laid, after all what’s the good in being a war hero if it doesn’t get you some action!”

Harry flushed red. “That was supposed to be a secret,” he hissed at Ron.

Ron looked unrepentant. “Harry, mate, your virginity is the worst kept secret of the whole war.”

Hermione had made a fuss about not being included, but as Bill had pointed out, “You don’t want to be there, Hermione. We are going to be awful, truly objectionable and deeply appalling. We are going to demean the fairer sex for our own cheap amusement, we are going to be an embarrassment to wizardkind, and Harry is going to vomit.”

“I am not!” protested Harry.

He was.

In fact he found himself in the gents with his head over the toilet only an hour and a half into the night thanks to the constant supply of shots he had been provided with.

“Oh God, ’m sorry,” he slurred as he stood up and stumbled into Charlie’s broad chest.

Charlie put his glasses back on for him and handed him a glass of water. “No bother, this was kind of the plan.”

Harry downed the water. “Ev’thing keeps spinning. This is terr’ble plan.”

“You just need some food, we’ll grab something before we head to the next bar.”

“There’s another bar?” Harry groaned.

“Come on, Potter,” Charlie encouraged him. “The snitch hasn’t even come into play yet, hold it together.”

Harry leaned back onto Charlie with a groan, his lips felt numb and rubbery. “I should’ve let Hermi’ne come. She would’ve protect’d me fr’m you lot.”

Charlie rubbed his back soothingly and Harry zoned out for a moment, drooling slightly on his robes. “Hey, no falling asleep yet. Here take this.” Charlie pulled a vial of something out of his pocket and tipped it into Harry’s mouth.

A very strange feeling zinged through Harry and he straightened with a jerk. “What the hell was that?”

“Trade secret, don’t tell Ron or he’ll tell Hermione and I’ll be in the shit for sure.”

“Is it illegal?” asked Harry with wide eyes.

Charlie laughed. “In this country it is,” he admitted. “But it’s just a butched up Pepper Up, we use it on the reserve for long shifts. Can’t get sloppy with a dragon.”

Harry was still very definitely drunk, but he felt awake and ready to go at the same time. He ran to the mirror to look at himself, then ran back to Charlie, then back to the mirror, then back to Charlie. Everything looked kind of sparkly. “You have nice eyes,” he told Charlie.

“Well that did its job I see,” Charlie said with a grin. “Come on then, let’s get back out there.”

Mostly hauled by Charlie, they made their way back to the rest of the Weasley’s, Neville, Dean, and Seamus.

“Situation under control,” Charlie informed them. “But I think it’s time for dinner.”

This suggestion was loudly hailed as the group messily made their way out of the pub and down the street. George and Seamus were nearly as drunk as Harry and the group as a whole had a tendency to stagger in unexpected directions. Half way there they realised they had left Neville in the pub, he’d gone to use the loo, and they had to send a party back again to retrieve him.

Seamus, George, and Harry were left to wait with Ron and Charlie as chaperones in case they got themselves in trouble. Seamus was singing to himself something about a sailor, George and Ron were talking in that intensely plastered away about something that was momentarily vitally important while sitting on the curb. Harry was still holding onto Charlie.

He turned into him. “Charlie,” he said.

“Yes, Harry.”

“You’re brilliant, Charlie.”

Charlie laughed and ruffled his hair. “You’re drunk, Harry.”

“No, I mean it,” insisted Harry. “Ron’s my best friend, but you’re my fav’rite Weasley. Definitely.”

“Oh really.”

“De-fi-nitely!” Harry repeated with emphasis.

“And why is that then?” Charlie seemed amused.

Harry frowned as his brain slowly turned over the question, random thoughts spilling out his mouth as they occurred. “You’re just so… Charlie. And you played seeker like me. And... dragons. And you have really nice shoulders. You know?” Harry ran the hand that wasn’t holding him up over one of the shoulders in question and down a bicep.

When he looked back at Charlie he might have noticed how the other man’s eyes had darkened and his voice roughened slightly, if he’d been sober anyway. “Do I?” said Charlie.

“God yeah,” said Harry thoughtlessly, lifting a hand to touch Charlie’s mouth.

“Here they are!” shouted Seamus suddenly, and Harry jerked his hand away in surprise, spinning around and nearly falling over again.

Charlie gripped him tightly to stop him ending up in the gutter and found Harry’s backside firmly pressed against his crotch as he let Charlie pull him into him without protest. Which was distracting. Shifting Harry under one arm he tried to subtly adjust his crotch as they headed off again for the restaurant.

The drinking continued at only a slightly reduced rate over dinner, as those who hadn’t been entirely plastered gradually caught up, and those who already were gradually sobered down, just enough that everyone met in the middle happily by the time the bill was due. Bill had thoughtfully had everyone fork out money for the night in advance so they didn’t end up fussing over the bill and all that was left was for a complex dance of toilet trips to finish before they could be on their way to the final destination.

Harry found himself following Charlie into the men's yet again, although this time under his own steam and significantly less nauseous. They passed Neville on the way out and made him promise not to leave them behind as they were the last two to suddenly decide they had to piss before going on.

Harry had always hated urinals, and had undergone no small amount of teasing at school for pissing in a stall whenever possible. But he wasn’t going to look like a jessie biscuit (as Oliver Wood had once put it) in front of Charlie, so he squared his shoulders and went for it. Besides Charlie was bladdered by now, and was hardly going to be watching.

Actually it was Harry who found his eyes straying.

Charlie was pissing like a horse, not surprising given the amount of bottled lager he had put away over dinner. And as he continued on and on like a fire hose, Harry couldn’t help but glance over out of sheer awe at the amount the man could piss.

Charlie was drunk enough to notice him looking, and drunk enough not to care. “Giant bladder,” he stated. “All dragon handlers have giant bladders, you can’t stop in the middle of a complicated job to go take a piss.”

“Right,” Harry blushed. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to…”

“No bother, you won’t be the first man to stare at my cock, and I hope to hell you’re not the last!” Charlie said with a wide grin, finally finishing his mammoth piss and tucking said cock back into his trousers with a flourish.

He went off to wash his hands leaving Harry in a state of surprise, still holding his own cock in his hands despite having finished some time ago. He quickly put himself away and went to wash his own hands. “Do you mean…” he said. “I mean I didn’t know you were...” he stammered.

“What, gay?” asked Charlie, unphased.

“Well, yeah.”

“When the mood takes me, I like a bit of cock. I can go either way.”

Harry gaped as Charlie swayed back out of the loos.

–

The last venue was very much a bar and not a pub. It served cocktails and shots and bottles of imported beer, and it had a shiny bar with a shiny mirror and rows and rows of shiny bottles behind it, instead of polished wood and old man smell.

The first drink Harry had shoved in his hand was deep green and apparently called an Inferi. “Because it kills you and then it brings you back to life again,” claimed Bill, who had bought one for everyone out of the group party fund.

Harry sipped it cautiously, but it tasted fruity and pretty harmless, so he figured Bill was just winding them up. That was his downfall, never having encountered cocktails before he didn’t understand that they were just a very clever way of making alcohol taste like sugar and juice. And as an Inferi contained equal shots of light rum, dark rum, over proof rum, over over proof South American Goblin made rum and French Veela brewed absinthe… oh, and some pineapple juice… there was a reason you weren’t supposed to drink it like butterbeer.

Three Inferi later Harry was dancing around a pole, because Seamus had dared him to. This was going down very well with the crowd, who had recognised the Boy Who Lived and were more than happy to see how much of a man he might have grown into.

As he stripped his shirt off and a couple of over excited witches grabbed it away from him squealing, Charlie stepped in. “Alright then, I think you’ve made your point,” he said as he grabbed Harry around the waist and lifted him off the floor to lug him back to the table.

“Oi,” said Bill. “I think he was in there with those two, wasn’t that the whole point?”

“Easy Bilius,” said Charlie. “A joke’s a joke, but Harry won’t thank us if he wakes up on the cover of the Daily Prophet with his bits out, and I guarantee that’s where that was headed.”

“Tol’ you I could dance,” Harry slurred at Seamus from under Charlie’s arm. “’m not in 4th year any more, y’know.”

“Yes, you certainly showed him,” said Charlie, propping him on a chair and then grabbing him again as he started to slide off. Charlie wasn’t big on fruity cocktails, and besides he could hold his liquor better than anyone here barring Bill, who was keen on fruity cocktails but never let them get the better of him. Eventually he shoved his chair up against Harry’s and propped him up bodily, just as George arrived back from the bar with another round of drinks.

“Hurray!” wobbled Harry as he was handed a fourth Inferi. “These are… these are… bloody brilliant,” he managed, nearly impaling himself on the cocktail umbrella.

Charlie removed the adornment, and considered removing the entire drink. “Are we sure that’s a good idea?” he asked Bill.

“He’ll never be 18 again,” said Bill.

“He might never be 19 at this rate.”

Bill laughed, “If it comes to that I have an excellent cure for alcohol poisoning on standby.”

Charlie laughed too. Trust Bill to be both the instigator and the organised one at the same time.

Fortunately Harry only made it half way through the drink before he spilled the rest all over himself and Charlie.

“Bloody hell, Harry. It had to be one of the bloody fruity ones didn’t it. Sticky as hell. Come on then.” Charlie hauled him up. “I’ll clean him off in the bathroom,” he told the others, who were mostly distracted by Ron and Seamus who were trying to balance their drinks on their foreheads. Which was what had led to Harry throwing his all over them in the first place.

The loos in the bar were quite nice, the place wasn’t cheap. Individual unisex toilets with a sink in each. Bill had had to book them in well in advance to swing it, and Charlie suspected they wouldn’t be welcome back with the spectacle they were making of themselves. They were only getting away with it thus far because it was Harry Potter. And no-one was going to turf the saviour of the wizarding world out their bar for being a bit wild.

He locked the door and propped Harry on the toilet while he rinsed himself off, stripping off his t-shirt to rinse it of juice under the tap and wiping off his arms as best he could. He wrung his shirt out and hung it over something to drip a bit while he turned to see what could be done about Harry.

Harry was sprawled back on the loo gazing at him with an open mouth and dazed green eyes.

“It’s all in your hair,” he said coming over to man handle Harry’s head. “Think we’ll have to stick your head under the tap I’m afraid.”

“Umm,” said Harry, and he felt hands on his hips, hands that proceeded to run around the waistband of his trousers and then down to cup his arse and tug him a half step closer.

“What are you...”

Harry looked up at him with an expression that was unmistakeable and then back down at Charlie’s crotch and then back up. “Let me suck it.”

Charlie’s jaw dropped and he froze. It wasn’t that he’d never been in this situation before, because he had, but it was usually entirely intentional, and not with his little sisters ex-boyfriend. And he was a bit too drunk to cope with how this had escalated so suddenly from a bit of harmless flirting that he’d thought Harry hadn’t even really picked up on to… to Harry clumsily undoing his flies. “Hold on a minute,” he said, his hands still in Harry’s hair.

For Harry’s part, alcohol had narrowed his brain down to very simple things. Want thing, try to do thing, take a while to do thing because he was drunk, but eventually achieve thing. There were no higher processes under consideration. Charlie liked a bit of cock, Charlie had a cock, Harry liked Charlie, Harry liked Charlie’s cock. He finally succeeded in getting a hold of said cock. Charlie’s hands tightened quite painfully in his hair as he licked the head, but he could only barely feel his scalp so that was okay too.

“Harry...” Charlie gasped. “I really… don’t think… this is a good… idea...”

Harry clearly disagreed. Apparently he liked cock almost as much as he liked over proof fruity cocktails. If the amount of it he was fitting into his mouth was anything to go by.

It wasn’t the most skilled blow job Charlie had ever had, but it may well have been the most enthusiastic. In the end he just clung on to Harry’s head and tried not to fall over himself. He was drunk enough that his world spun quite spectacularly every time he closed his eyes and he had to keep jerking them back open and catching his balance again. He took a long time to come, but Harry never wavered for a second in his attentions and didn’t even balk when Charlie couldn’t help but start thrusting into his mouth, instead urging him deeper with one hand on his backside and the other inside his trousers cupping his sack with sticky fingers.

When Charlie finally came Harry swallowed it all down like he’d been sucking cock for years and Charlie was impressed enough to wonder if Harry really was the virgin he claimed to be.

Harry licked his lips and grinned up at him, his lips swollen red and his chin wet with saliva. “Yum,” he said, and pulled himself up to his feet as Charlie put his cock away. Then suddenly Harry was kissing him, tasting of come and pineapple juice. He pulled away from sticking his tongue into Charlie’s mouth to say, “Let’s get out of here.”

Bill had booked them all rooms tonight so they wouldn’t appal their mother by rocking up at the Burrow drunk and disorderly, and as he’d claimed they were out to let Harry pull he’d booked Harry a double all to himself. But he really shouldn’t… “You’re really drunk, Harry,” he said.

“Yup,” said Harry. “And I b’lieve I was promised a deflowering.”

He grabbed Charlie’s hand and pressed it to his crotch where the amount of alcohol in his system was clearly not preventing his teenage drives from functioning on all cylinders. He throbbed under Charlie’s touch and Charlie’s hand moved to cup him almost instinctively. Harry thrust lightly against his palm.

“Want you.”

“Yeah,” said Charlie breathily. “So I see. You got your room key with you?”

“In my pocket.”

“Wait here.” There was no way he was letting Bill see him the way he looked right now. He pulled on his wet shirt and headed back to the table, and hissed in Bill’s ear. “Harry’s done, mate. I’m gonna see him back to the hotel.”

“What?” Bill complained. “He can’t be that bad.”

“No I mean it, he’s out of it,” said Charlie, trying to look convincing. And it wasn’t exactly a lie, Harry was in no fit state to be out in public any longer. “He’s had a good time, I know he appreciated it. You stay here and keep an eye on this lot before they trash the place, yeah?”

Bill looked back at the table full of hooligans before him, even Neville was past good behaviour. “Yeah, all right then. If you’re sure.”

“Oh I’m sure,” said Charlie, and went back to find Harry. Although he half wondered if he’d still be conscious when he returned.

But Harry seemed to have hit a second wind, arousal could do that to a bloke sometimes. And Charlie was barely in the door before Harry was on him and muttering the passcode to activate the portkey that swept them both straight from the bar to the inside of Harry’s room for the night.

Where Harry proceeded to strip naked and throw himself onto the bed and demand to be fucked.

Charlie protested, not least of all because he’d just come five minutes ago and he was too full of alcohol to get it up again that quickly.

“But you have to,” Harry whined, poking his ass in the air and wiggling it obscenely. “It’s my birthday.”

“Harry, mate… I just came, I couldn’t fuck you even if I thought I should. And I’m not sure you really know what you’re asking for right now.”

But Harry had only had the attention span for the first part of the conversation. “I’ve got something for that,” he announced proudly and bent over off the bed in a very disconcerting manner to get something out his jeans pocket. It took a lot of fiddling and a near face plant onto the carpet before he came up dizzily, brandishing a small vial. “Seamus gave it to me for my birthday,” he said happily. “Said it might be hard to get it up if I got too drunk and that this would help.” He looked down at his prick, which was still rock hard, and stated proudly, “I clearly do not need it.” He grabbed Charlie by the waist of his trousers and hauled him over to the bed.

Charlie looked on in bemusement as Harry pressed the vial into his hand and then pushed his hand towards his face. Obediently he drank it and then hoped to hell Seamus had bought it from somewhere semi-reputable. I mean this was Seamus Finnegan we were talking about.

Reputable or not, the potion had serious kick. It singed it’s way through Charlie's veins and straight to his groin where his erection leapt to attention almost painfully fast.

Harry noticed immediately as he'd grabbed hold of Charlie's cock as soon as he'd downed the potion, in order to monitor it's progress. “Hurray,” he shouted, much as he had when the 4th Inferi had shown up, except this time he followed up by jamming his tongue into Charlie's mouth again even as he once more struggled to unfasten his trousers.

Even as Charlie was letting Harry kiss him, and kissing him right back if truth be told, he was arguing with himself silently.

Mate, he said. Mate, you cannot be doing this. He’s your little sisters ex-boyfriend.

Charlie, you wanker, he replied. He is begging for it. Gift horses and mouths and all that.

He is drunk! Charlie told himself sternly.

You are also drunk, and he has already sucked your cock, he responded impudently. That line is crossed, boyo. That line is so far behind you it is in another time zone.

He realised that as he had been arguing with himself he appeared to have been stripped naked and to have allowed himself to be pulled onto the bed where he was enthusiastically snogging and groping the object under discussion. Apparently his body didn’t give a toss that his brain had not come to a decision yet.

Harry had his legs around Charlie’s waist.

Charlie paused awkwardly and drew back a bit, though not far since Harry’s limbs weren’t allowing much distance.

“Look, Harry...”

“No!” said Harry.

“Exactly,” Charlie groaned.

“No! I mean no stopping. Stop stopping right now.” Harry tugged his legs tighter.

“What?”

“You promised, Charlie,” Harry whined.

“I did not!”

“Someone did, you promised as a group. Promised I wouldn’t be a virgin by tomorrow. No take backs.”

“Harry, this isn’t a joke.”

Harry had pulled them close enough that their erections were brushing against each other and Charlie was in a tug of war with his hips to stop them thrusting. Harry let go with one arm and pushed it between them to actively press their cocks together and thrust against Charlie, who groaned and let his eyelids flutter down momentarily. Between the potion and already having come once his cock was unnaturally sensitive.

“I’m not joking,” said Harry.

Charlie’s last shred of willpower snapped and he started matching Harry’s thrusts.

Harry grinned. “Don’t you dare come like that,” he said, letting go of their cocks. “Want you to come inside me. Want you to fuck me.”

Charlie groaned, because he wanted to, perhaps more than he’d ever wanted to fuck anyone. It wasn’t that he had long harboured some secret desire for this, he’d only started noticing Harry that way since the end of the war. But he’d never been pursued like this, never had someone practically beg to be fucked, and it was damn hot. The way secretly meeting boys after curfew at Hogwarts before he’d really told anyone he swung both ways had been hot. Forbidden and slightly dangerous, the same things that had drawn him into working with dragons.

And he had his fingers between Harry’s legs now, slick and probing, and wondering if Harry would change his mind. He slid one finger inside the tight entrance and felt it give for him and clench at him.

Harry moaned in what did not sound like pain.

“You all right?” Charlie muttered anyway.

“Oh yes, yes,” Harry sighed, pulling one leg up higher. “More.”

Harry had always seemed so awkward about sex before, blushing and turning away at the innuendo of the other boys, cautious about being seen even partially undressed. Seeing him so uninhibited was a rush. Knowing he was the first to do so was a rush.

Still he took his time, working his fingers in slowly, enjoying the feel of penetrating someone, opening them up, watching them writhe.

Harry was vocal and encouraging and pliable underneath him, one leg now hooked over Charlie’s broad shoulder. He was taking three fingers deep into him easily now and Charlie knew he was ready, but he was almost tempted to keep going like this, make him come.

Charlie began to lower his head, planning to take Harry’s cock into his mouth and bring him off that way.

But Harry grabbed his hair and tugged him up before his lips made contact. “No, not yet. Want to come with you inside me, your cock. Fuck me, Charlie. I can take it. Want it.”

And how could he refuse.

Harry shuddered as all three fingers were pulled out, leaving him feeling empty and open. But only for a moment before he felt the head of Charlie’s cock take their place and press into him. Hot, so much hotter than his fingers. He couldn’t see Charlie enter him so he looked at his face instead. Sweat at his temples, his red hair dark and curling around his face, his broad shoulders with Harry’s pale leg thrown over one. And Harry had no idea why he wanted this so much, why it was so satisfying to watch Charlie push inside him, why it felt so good to lie underneath this broad, strong, warm body. Familiar and unfamiliar at the same time. This urge to be penetrated that had grown inside him all night, only heightened by taking Charlie into his mouth and swallowing him down.

There had been a strange untethering at the end of the war. A new world of grief and freedom and change and unknown endings. And for the first time in those months he felt grounded, solid and real. In the dizzy disconnection of drunkeness he had somehow found a connection, or perhaps just the confidence to reach out and make one. Take something he needed.

Needed and needed. And the warm thrusts filled him up with a satisfaction he had not felt at saving the world from a madman. They really were safe. It really was over. And there was a large warm hand on his cock, stroking him in time to those deep thrusts and he was going to come, and he was coming, and Charlie was coming, and their grunted moans were full of peace and satisfaction.

–

Harry had lost his virginity on his 18th birthday.

And he had discovered one more way that he was special on the first day of the rest of his life. Despite imbibing more alcohol than he had thought was physically possible, despite the fact that his liver actually hurt, he could remember every single thing that had happened last night.

He lay very very still, because if he moved he might die, and also because Charlie still seemed to be asleep.

He raised one shaky hand to his face, he was going to have to get up. He needed to piss, or vomit, or possibly disgorge all the contents of his body from a random selection of orifices and there was no delaying it. He rolled out of bed fast despite the bolts of agony from his head and staggered into the en suite, barely managing to pull the door shut before collapsing over the toilet.

\--

Charlie woke up himself as the bed was rocked by the sudden movement and the bathroom door slammed. He looked at the shut door as he let his hangover wash over him.

After a few minutes he got up and went over to the door and leaning against the frame called through it, “Harry? You okay?”

He could hear the sound of violent heaving.

“Best get it all out,” he called through. “I’ll see if I can locate some tea.”

–

When Harry finally wobbled back out of the bathroom wrapped in a towel Charlie was back in bed, though wearing a clean t-shirt, and with a tea tray next to him on the bedside table.

He held out a mug to Harry and, crawling onto the bed and collapsing against the back board, Harry took it with shaky fingers.

“You’ll want this as well.” Charlie handed him a vial of hangover potion. He’d been to the room he was supposed to have shared with Bill as well as downstairs to order the tea. Bill had still been asleep so Charlie had ruffled up his bed in what he hoped was a convincing fashion and left his clothes from last night on the floor there. He’d probably tell Bill the truth at some point, they didn’t really have secrets from each other, but not just yet.

Harry downed the potion, made a face, tried to cover the taste with his tea, and burned his tongue. He groaned miserably. Charlie took the tea away again and cast a cooling charm on it.

“So, bit of an awkward question, but… how much do you remember about last night?” Charlie asked with a slightly forced lightness.

Harry blushed, taking his tea back. “Thanks for getting me off that pole before I took any more of my clothes off,” he said, which didn’t really answer Charlie’s question.

“No problem.”

“Um… and thanks for… ah… you know.” Harry went even redder.

Charlie raised an eyebrow.

“I mean for… letting me… and then… the other.”

Charlie smiled. “Then you got what you wanted?”

“Yeah. I did.”

And they drank their tea side by side without discussing it any further.

Harry lost his virginity on his 18th birthday.

And he remembered every second of it.

And it had been brilliant.


End file.
